


Desk Duty

by the_gramophone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Alternate Universe - Office, Fluff, Hale Fire Still Happens, Insecure Stiles, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4592655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_gramophone/pseuds/the_gramophone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is working a job he hates with a boss who's a dick, just trying to make money while he figures out what he wants to do. Meeting the Hales livens things up, particularly Derek Hale, who encourages him to aim for more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desk Duty

**Author's Note:**

> So I've gone on a bit of a long writing break. I had a really long fic that I had been working on and was in love with, and my hard drive completely crashed and I lost it all. :( I had a period of mourning, but recently I decided to write something for Roo to cheer her up along the theme of "Sometimes being a young adult sucks but things work out!" Of course then I ended up channeling plenty of my own work frustrations in there as well. 
> 
> Many many thanks to the lovely Sarah, who betas things for me even when she is very Busy and Important, and when I continue to make the same mistakes over and over.

Stiles darted around the corner of the warehouse, panting with exertion. He needed a moment to regroup before he could go any further. He’d already lost one member of his team to recklessness today, and he would not allow himself to become yet another casualty in this war.  


Stiles finished checking over his gear and nodded grimly. It was now or never. He took a step out of the cover and lifted his gun –  


The phone rang shrilly, jolting Stiles out of the daze he had sunk into as he focused on the game. He sighed, minimizing the page, and lifted the phone.  


“Jackson Whittemore’s desk, how may I help you?”  


“Hello,” the woman responded snapped. “I am a long-time client of Whittemore & Associates, and I demand to speak to someone in charge right now. I cannot believe what I have had to deal with!”  


“I’m sorry you feel that way, ma’am,” Stiles said. “What seems to be the problem?”  


“I can’t believe you don’t know! Isn’t that your job?!”  


Stiles rolled his eyes and settled back, letting the woman’s angry words wash over him. He hadn’t exactly expected to love his job as the personal assistant of Jackson Whittemore, one of Beacon Hills’ top attorneys, but he hadn’t anticipated how much of it was just fielding angry calls from entitled pricks.  


Not to mention the prick he was stuck dealing with every day.  


Stiles had just hung up the call when Jackson swept by, dropping a large stack of papers on Stiles’ desk.  


“Get those to Martina in accounting now,” Jackson called over his shoulder. “And get me a cup of coffee – the good stuff, not that shit they serve in the cafeteria.”  


Stiles made a face where Jackson couldn’t see, and picked up the stack. “Got it!” he replied.  


By the time Stiles made it back to the office, after taking a detour to pick up some case files from the basement Jackson remembered he needed and running across the street to get Jackson’s Starbucks order, he was simmering with irritation. The clerks had lost the files Jackson needed and taken twenty minutes to find them, Martina had made him wait to hand off the files until she finished a phone call with her boyfriend, and he had had to ask the barista to remake Jackson’s drink when she forgot to make it with soy milk.  


“About time,” Jackson drawled when Stiles placed the files and drink on his desk. “I know you’ve never been especially bright, but I really didn’t think it was that complicated a request, Stilinski. Did you get lost?”  


Stiles gritted his teeth as Jackson smirked. He would love nothing more than to tell Jackson where he could stick his latte, but he needed the money he made here to pay his student loans. He had been out of college for seven months before he found this job, and at least it paid well. He was pretty sure the only reason he’s even gotten the job was because Jackson had been a few years ahead of him in high school. He’d always enjoyed pushing Stiles around, but Stiles had been hoping that time had given him enough maturity to be past that.  


Of fucking course that had been too much to hope for.  


“Sorry,” he bit out. “Won’t happen again.”  


“Great,” Jackson said condescendingly. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your desk? I have a meeting with a new client in five minutes, and it would be nice if you were out there, doing your job, when they arrive.”  


Stiles stomped back to his desk. When he got there, he saw his phone lit up with a new text.  


_How’s the douche?_  


Stiles smiled. His best friend Scott had an uncanny way of knowing when Stiles was reaching the end of his rope, and distracting him.  


_As bitchy as ever. How’re the puppies?_  


He was a little jealous of Scott sometimes. Sure, the second year of veterinary school was supposed to be killer, but Scott knew what he wanted and was going out and getting it. Stiles had felt adrift since he graduated, and he often found himself missing the security of college life. There, he had a purpose and goals and knew where he fit. Now, he was just a lackey, good for only getting coffee and fading into the background of more important people’s lives.  


Someone cleared their throat in front of him, and Stiles jerked his head up guiltily to see a woman around his age staring at him impatiently.  


“Hi,” he said. “Do you have an appointment?”  


“Cora Hale,” she said. “My brother will be here in a minute.”  


“Of course,” Stiles said, standing up. “One moment.”  


He poked his head into Jackson’s office. “Cora Hale is here.” Jackson waved a hand absently back, and Stiles nodded, opening the door wider to let her through. “Can I get you anything, Ms. Hale? Coffee, water?”  


“No,” she said without looking back. “I’m good.”  


Stiles went back to his desk and picked up his smartphone. He hated how people saw him here. It was like he didn’t exist outside of opening doors and answering phones. He could go through an entire interaction with a client without them looking at him once.  


Stiles texted Scott idly for a few minutes before he was distracted by a man getting off the elevator. He was maybe three or four years older than Stiles, but, judging by the suit he was wearing, had his life way more put together. It was hard to be jealous when he filled out a suit so fucking well, though. Stiles lost himself in admiring those cheekbones and eyes for a minute before forcing himself to look away. The last thing he wanted was to get caught ogling the clients. As Jackson informed him the one and only time he had been caught doing so, “It’s not that it’s the bi thing. It’s that you are so beneath them it’s insulting.”  


That sort of smooth talking was why it’s been Stiles’ job to send Jackson’s ex roses twice a week for the past month. Every single time, the next day, a small box would return, filled with the shredded remains of the flowers.  


Stiles decided to risk one more look, only to start he realized the man had stopped in front of his desk and was waiting on him.  


“Hello,” the man said. “I’m Derek Hale, and I have an appointment.”  


Stiles gulped. Mr. Hale had raised an eyebrow slightly as he spoke, as if he and Stiles were sharing a private joke, and Stiles had a brief, insane moment of wishing that Mr. Hale would rub his scruff all over Stiles’ inner thighs.  


Stop it, he told his dick firmly. Not now. Not ever.  


“Sure,” he said brightly, hoping his thoughts weren’t showing on his face. “Right this way.” He knocked once before opening the door. “Derek Hale, Mr. Whittemore.”  


Jackson stood and shook Mr. Hale’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Did my assistant offer you anything?” Mr. Hale opened his mouth to speak, but Jackson barreled on. 

“Stilinski, why don’t you go get some coffee for our guests?” He shook his head ruefully. “Honestly, I don’t know what to do with him sometimes. It’s like I have to tell him everything.”  


Stiles gaped before shutting his mouth quickly. The injustice burned at him but he shut it away. “How do you take your coffee?” he asked woodenly.  


“Black, decaf,” Miss Hale said without looking away from the forms she was examining at Jackson’s desk.  


“Regular, with milk and sugar,” Mr. Hale said, turning to smile at him. The force of it sent Stiles’ brain offline for a second before he showed himself out.  


Jesus. He didn’t know which was worse – Miss Hale’s indifference, or Mr. Hale’s smiles.

After that, the Hale siblings were regular guests in the office. “It’s a simple enough case of inheritance fraud,” Stiles overheard Jackson bragging while on the phone with one of his fraternity buddies. “But their family’s loaded – once we win, it’s going to be a huge payout for the firm.”  


Stiles’ heart couldn’t help but go out to the pair, though. He knew from looking over the files that they lost most of their family in a house fire several years back, and their uncle had been siphoning off large chunks of their inheritance to support his various shady businesses. Stiles got the feeling it was less about the money for them, and more about breaking free of their controlling uncle. Miss Hale’s face was often pale and set by the time they finished their meetings.  


Stiles got off the elevator one day, whistling quietly to himself. He’d had a pretty good lunch break today. The cafeteria had been serving their incredible chicken pot pie, and he had a long call with Scott while he ate. He was going to try to hold onto this good feeling for as long as he could when he got back to the office.  


A soft noise caught his attention as he passed the restrooms. Stiles stopped, turning his head. Another noise, almost like a whimper, made his decision for him and he started towards it. When he rounded the corner he was shocked to find Cora Hale huddled by the water fountain, hand pressed firmly over her mouth to muffle the sound of her weeping. 

He knew their meetings upset her, but she always seemed so stoic to him. She normally swept in and out of the office like a queen visiting her subjects, without a pause or spare glance for anybody.  


“Miss Hale?” he asked softly. Her head jerked up in surprise, eyes widening.  


“I’m sorry,” she said, pushing herself away from the wall. “I didn’t mean to bother you, I’ll just go.”  


“No, wait!” Stiles took a step forward, arms out. “It’s okay. Can I help you with anything?”  


Miss Hale shook her head. “It’s nothing. It’s just” – her face crumpled as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “I hate this!” she cried.  


Stiles moved forward, catching her around in his arms as she sank to the floor. “Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he murmured as she cried. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Mr. Whittemore is a great lawyer. He’s the best at this sort of thing, I swear.”  


She wiped her eyes. “It’s not that. I know that. And I know we’ll win our case, too. I just hate that we have to do this. Even now, I can’t think of Peter like a criminal. I just keep thinking of him giving me piggyback rides when I was little, and taking me to a petting zoo for my birthday. He was my favorite uncle. How could he do this to us?” Her voice broke at the end, and she buried her head in Stiles’ shoulder.  


Stiles patted her shoulder awkwardly. He didn’t know what to say. He had always had a small, close-knit family, even before his mother died, and he couldn’t imagine doing something like that to someone he loved. The sort of loss the Hales were experiencing was completely foreign to him.  


“Sometimes people do bad things to people they love,” he said helplessly. “There’s no rhyme or reason to it.” Miss Hale kept crying, and Stiles got an idea. “Hey, the cafeteria’s serving chocolate cake today. Why don’t we go down and get some?”  


Miss Hale nodded shakily, accepting Stiles’ help off the floor. She was quiet going down in the elevator, but at the first bite of cake her face brightened slightly, and she tucked in with enthusiasm.  


“You should call me Cora,” she said suddenly around a mouthful of cake.  


“Uh, sure,” Stiles said.  


Cora gave a small smile before taking another large bite of cake. “Thank you, for this.”  


Stiles nodded, and they had returned to eating their cake in peaceful silence when Mr. Hale found them.  


“Cora,” he said, relieved. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You’ve been gone for half an hour! What happened?” He narrowed his eyes at her tear-stained cheeks, and turned to glare at Stiles. “What did you do?” he demanded.  


“Hey!” Stiles protested.  


“Nothing!” Cora said. “Stiles found me crying by the bathroom and was trying to cheer me up.”  


“Oh.” Mr. Hale deflated a little. “Are you okay?” he asked tentatively.  


She nodded, small and quick, eyes fixed on her plate. “I think it just hit me how hard it’s going to be, having to see him in court.”  


He sat down. “We have to do this, Cora,” he said gently as he reached out and grasped her hand in his. “We can’t let him keep taking advantage of us. It’s not what Mom and Dad would want.”  


Cora sighed and took another bite of her cake. “I know,” she said quietly. “I wish they were here.”  


“Me too,” Mr. Hale said.  


Stiles eased out of his chair. He was intruding on a personal family matter now, and it would probably be for the best if he could just fade away and give them their space.  


Mr. Hale turned to look at him as he stood. Of course, the one time he wanted to be invisible to a client he wasn’t, he thought irritably.  


“Thank you,” Mr. Hale said sincerely. “It’s been a difficult time for us, and you’ve been very understanding.”  


“Of course!” Stiles said quickly. “It was no trouble, seriously, Mr. Hale. I mean, I got to eat cake and I’m not even on break, so it’s all good.”  


Mr. Hale smiled. “Call me Derek.”  


Stiles smiled back. He had found over the last few weeks of seeing the Hales that he was pretty much helpless in the face of one of Mr. Hales’ – _Derek’s_ , he reminded himself giddily – smiles.

The next week, Derek hung around after an appointment as Cora breezed by. “Bye, Stiles!” she called as she rushed to the elevator.  


“She seems better,” he said to Derek.  


Derek nodded. “Last week we talked about a lot of stuff that we needed to get out in the air. I think it helped both of us.”  


“That’s good,” Stiles said. “Maybe once this is over you can move on past all this.” He paused as his words caught up to him, and he flushed. “Not that you can move past someone dying, I mean my mom died 14 years ago and I still miss her. I just mean you don’t have to be miserable forever.” Derek raised an eyebrow, and Stiles winced. _Shut up! Just shut up now while you can!_ his brain wailed at him. “Not that you look miserable now! I mean, sometimes you do, but this can’t exactly be fun to go through. I know there are days when I don’t want to be here, and I’m just a PA. Although no, I take that back. I love my job and I’m very grateful to have it! Really!”  


There’s a long pause as Derek stared at him. Stiles began mentally packing up his desk and review how much money he had in his savings. This is definitely the end of his employment. He started in surprise when Derek started laughing, the sound low and warm.  


“Thanks, I think,” Derek said, chuckling.  


Stiles whined and sank lower in his chair. “Please don’t have me fired?” he askd plaintively.  


Derek shook his head. “Maybe another time,” he grinned. “Want to get something to drink from the cafeteria? I could use some coffee.”  


Stiles couldn’t quite keep up with what just happened, but he stood up anyway.

Derek, it turned out, was excellent to talk to when he wasn’t stressed about meeting with a lawyer. Stiles learned that he works as a photographer to supplement the income from his inheritance. “I could never just live off my family’s money for the rest of my life,” Derek wrinkled his nose, and a tiny part of Stiles’ brain cooed at how adorable the action was. Thirty minutes passed quickly as the two traded stories and jokes in the lobby of the building. Eventually, though, Stiles knew his absence would be missed from his desk.  


“I should go,” he said reluctantly.  


“Oh, right.” Derek frowned before nodding. “I probably should too. I need to get back to the studio. I have a couple coming in for an engagement photo shoot in an hour.”  


“Right,” Stiles nodded but didn’t move towards the elevator. “This was fun.”  


“Yeah, it was,” Derek said. “We should do it again.”  


“Okay,” Stiles said faintly before floating back to his office. Maybe it was better when Derek was just a handsome client Stiles got to ogle a few times a week, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  


It became a bit of a tradition for Derek to hang back after meetings to get a coffee or a quick bite to eat with Stiles. Stiles began looking forward to these brief exchanges more and more, until his entire week was just waiting for the next one. He knew having a crush on a client could get him into trouble, but he didn’t want to give up the one thing he liked about his job.  


“It’s like people don’t even think I’m a human being,” he complained to Derek one day after a particularly long and painful phone call with a client. “I mean, she called me things I’ve never heard said outside of a war movie! And she was a soccer mom!”  


Derek shook his head. “Why don’t you quit? You hate it here.”  


Stiles slumped back in his chair. “I can’t just quit. I have nothing else to do and a shit-ton of bills.” He took a large bite of his cookie before continuing. “I majored in psychology, but by the time I was a senior, I realized I never wanted to be a psychologist. But it was too late to switch degrees, and I have no idea what I want instead.”  


“There’s nothing you’ve ever thought of doing?” Derek pressed.  


Stiles considered the matter as he took another fortifying bite of cookie. There were days when coffee and chocolate were all that kept him going in this hell hole. “I used to want to be a sheriff, like my dad,” he admitted. “But I stopped thinking about it at some point.”  


Derek nodded thoughtfully. “I could see you as a cop,” he said. “Why did you change your mind?”  


Stiles shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I knew I wanted to live in Beacon Hills, and I wouldn’t want anyone to think I got a job because of my dad. Or worse, if my dad had to be the one to tell me after an interview that I hadn’t gotten the job.”  


Derek huffed. “That’s no reason not to do something you’re passionate about. Look, you’re smart, Stiles. You could do something so much more than answering phones.”  


“I would have to go back to school though,” Stiles retorted. “The police academy isn’t free and I have student loans.”  


“I don’t have an answer for that,” Derek acknowledged. “Everything I can think of to say sounds pretty patronizing considering I’ve never had to worry about money.” Stiles sighed and turned his attention to breaking his cookie into pieces. Like he needed the reminder that they come from completely different worlds. Before their deaths, Mr. Hale was the region’s top anesthesiologist and Mrs. Hale was the president of a wildlife charity. Both, of course, came from old money. “But I do know,” Derek continued, “that you are too good to waste away in a job like this. It’ll end up sucking away your soul if you let it.”  


Stiles sighed. “I know,” he said. “But isn’t this what being an adult is? Doing something you hate because it’s for the best?”  


Derek shook his head. “I think it’s knowing when it’s okay to give up on something that’s bad for you.”  


Stiles went back to his desk that day brimming with thoughts and questions.  


“Stilinski!” Jackson called the moment he got to his desk. “Get in here!”  


Stiles huffed and set his cup down before walking into his office. “Yes?” he said politely.  


Jackson narrowed his eyes at Stiles from behind his desk. “You were away for quite a while,” he said.  


“I took my lunch,” Stiles protested. After the first time with Derek, Stiles had begun timing his lunch breaks to after the Hales’ meeting ended so he wouldn’t end up missing too much work.  


“I’ve heard you like to eat with Mr. Hale in our cafeteria,” Jackson said casually. He cocked his head. “That wouldn’t be true, would it?”  


“Sometimes Derek’s there,” Stiles said carefully. Technically there wasn’t anything in the employee manual against him eating lunch with Derek, but he wouldn’t put it past Jackson to try to punish him for it anyway if he decided he didn’t like it.  


“I wouldn’t be getting too comfortable with _Derek_ if I were you,” Jackson said. He raised an eyebrow. “It’s almost as if you’ve forgotten your place in this company. You get the coffee and the files and answer phones and otherwise pretend you don’t exist. You have no business speaking with clients outside of this office, do you understand?”  


Stiles flushed with embarrassment and anger. How could one self-important dick make him feel so small and stupid? “Got it,” he bit out.  


“Great,” Jackson smiled. “Now get back to your desk. I imagine you have messages to return, things to do. And why don’t you take lunch at your desk for the next few days? I would hate for you to fall behind on your work.”  


Jackson was true to his word. The next day, as Derek and Cora left the office, Jackson trailed behind them. “Don’t worry about Stiles,” he assured Derek as he paused uncertainly at his desk. Stiles stared unseeingly at his computer. He didn’t know what he would do if he had to look at Derek while Jackson talked about him like that. “He has some work to catch up on. But I would be happy to go to the cafeteria with you if you want something to eat.”  


“That’s okay,” Derek said slowly. “I guess I have to get back to work anyway.”  


“Great!” Jackson said, clapping Derek on the shoulder. “I’ll see you on Monday for our last pre-trial meeting.” He walked Derek to the elevator before turning back to his office. “Good work today champ,” he said, clapping Stiles on the back as he passed. “Keep it up.”  


Stiles burned with shame as he glared at his desk.

The weekend seemed to pass more slowly than ever when he no longer had his lunch with Derek to look forward to. For the past month, he had almost been able to forget how much he hated his job. Derek brightened his days and gave him something to focus on besides the irate clients and demanding coworkers. But even if Jackson hadn’t forbade them from meeting anymore, it was almost the end anyway, he told himself firmly. Derek and Cora’s trial was next week, and when it was over, their time at Whittemore & Associates would be over as well. It’s not like they would have any reason to see each other after that. Stiles didn’t even have Derek’s phone number, and neither of them had ever broached the idea of getting together outside of work. Could Stiles even consider him a friend when their entire relationship consisted of eating the cafeteria’s subpar food and chatting for half an hour a few times a week?  


The sad thing was, Stiles knew that even if they never saw each other again he would still consider Derek to be more important than any of his exes.  


Halfway through their meeting on Monday, Jackson buzzed the intercom for Stiles. “Stilinski, go get me some coffee. Don’t forget a stopper this time.” He went back to his meeting without another word and Stiles got up. By the time he would be back from Starbucks, the Hales’ meeting would be over and Stiles would miss seeing Derek. It looked like Jackson wasn’t willing to risk it.  


He had vague hopes as he walked inside Starbucks of getting Jackson’s drink fast enough that he might at least be able to see Derek leave and say goodbye. His heart sank as he saw the length of the line, though, and resigned himself to having missed his chance for ever having anything more with Derek.  


_What chance?_ A small, bitter part of his mind thought. You don’t even know if Derek likes guys, and if he did, why would he like you?  


He sighed as he placed his order, getting a coffee for himself at the same time. He knew that his job was toxic, that he had never had such problems with his self-esteem until he started working with people who treated him like an idiot or like he was scum. But it was hard to reason away the small feeling he got every time he was treated unfairly.  


Yet another reason he had no chance with Derek Hale. He couldn’t even find a better job than some jumped-up lawyers’ lackey.  


“Stiles?” the barista called. Stiles smiled at her and stepped forward to grab his drinks. It had only taken two months of coming here every day to get Jackson’s drinks, but at least the baristas always pronounced his name correctly now.  


A hand landed on his shoulder as he reached for the drinks. Stiles jumped and spun around, heart thudding.  


“I’m sorry!” Derek apologized, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at Stiles’ tie, where some coffee had splashed. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”  


“No, it’s – it’s okay,” Stiles said feebly. Too much of his brain was focused on the feeling of Derek’s hand on his chest to devote much attention to what he was saying.  


Derek looked up from Stiles’ tie and flushed, stepping back. Stiles spared a moment to mourn the loss of Derek’s hand. “What are you doing here?”  


Derek shrugged, still blushing slightly. “I wanted to see you,” he said. “I assume Mr. Whittemore doesn’t want us spending time together anymore.”  


“Yeah, he was subtle about that, wasn’t he?” Stiles said wryly.  


Derek snorted. “I’m glad he’s good in a courtroom, but personally he’s about as good at interpersonal relationships as a rabid hedgehog.”  


“Lydia sent his latest bouquet of flowers back with a note threatening to get a restraining order,” Stiles grinned. “So you might have a point.”  


Derek laughed briefly before sobering. “I’ll miss seeing you at the office,” he said. “This entire thing has been really rough. Talking to you has made it a lot easier for me.”  


“I’ll miss you too,” Stiles said, smiling sadly. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you criticizing my dessert choices.”  


“Curly fried dipped in chocolate is not a dessert,” Derek protested.  


“I stand by it,” Stiles sniffed. Fuck Derek, that stuff was _delicious_. They stood there for a moment, grinning at each other like idiots before Stiles checked his watch and cursed. “I have to get back to the office.”  


Derek’s face fell. “Right. Of course you do. I should be going, too.”  


“You’re not getting anything to drink?”  


“No, I, uh, just knew you would be here,” Derek said awkwardly.  


Stiles smiled as he picked up his drinks and walked to the door. “Speaking of restraining orders,” he joked.  


Derek huffed and shoved Stiles lightly. “Shut up,” he said without any heat.  


“Oooh, big talk,” Stiles teased. “Why don’t you make me?”  


Derek stopped on the sidewalk and stared at Stiles, raising an eyebrow. Shit. Stiles realized how that must have sounded and turned bright red. “I mean…” he stuttered.  


Derek shook his head, smiling. “Do you ever think before you talk?”  


“Eh, I tried that once,” Stiles shrugged. “You know, I didn’t care for it.”  


“Of course not,” Derek said, before taking a step forward. “You might have been onto something, though.”  


What. “What?” Stiles asked intelligently.  


Derek leaned forward and cupped Stiles’ face between his hands. Stiles had a moment to curse the fact that he had drinks in both of his hands before Derek closed the gap between them, brushing his lips softly against Stiles’. It was only the briefest of moments, but as Derek pulled away, Stiles felt his life change forever. All thoughts of being able to go without Derek fled in the face of the knowledge that Stiles loved him, as imprudent as it may be.  


“I have to go,” Derek said, backing away. “And you have to get back to the office.”  


“Right,” Stiles said faintly.  


Derek had walked down the street and turned the corner before Stiles could make himself turn back into the office.

Stiles silently dropped Jackson’s coffee off at his desk and returned to his own in a stupor. What had just happened? Did this mean what Stiles thought – hoped – it meant? Stiles cursed the fact that he somehow still didn’t have Derek’s phone number. He was wondering if he would be able to find Derek on Facebook when Jackson called him back into his office.  


“You know, Stilinski, I just had the most interesting phone call from my father,” Jackson leaned back casually in his chair, but Stiles saw his tightly clenched jaw and winced. Whittemore Sr. had founded the practice, and although he was no longer an active part of the company, he knew nothing could rattle Jackson like the threat of his father’s disappointment.  


“Anything I should know about?” Stiles asked carefully.  


”I could say the same thing,” Jackson snapped. “You see, my father was at Starbucks across the street, getting some coffee when he saw something involving an employee and a client. Do you know anything about that?”  


Stiles blanched. He couldn’t believe Jackson’s father had been there and Stiles hadn’t seen him. He had been so consumed by Derek that he had been completely blind to everything around him.  


“I can explain,” he began.  


“Can you?” Jackson asked coldly. “Can you explain how you thought it was appropriate for someone representing this company to sexually assault a client on a busy street outside of our office?”  


“That’s not what happened!” Stiles exclaimed, shocked.  


“Really?” Jackson asked sarcastically. Stiles thought of how happy he had been just moments before, and his gut churned with how much had changed in the last thirty minutes. “Then you’re trying to tell me that Derek Hale, a part of one of our city’s oldest and most influential families, was interested in you? Or are you saying that he assaulted you? One of our most valued clients?"  


“No, that’s not what happened either,” Stiles said, frustrated.  


“Well, which is it?” Jackson demanded. “It’s either your fault or his. Either way, it won’t save your job.”  


“What?” Stiles gaped.  


“You’re fired. I can’t have this sort of behavior in my company. It gives everyone here a bad reputation, and I won’t have you putting us at risk. Mr. Hale could sue if he wanted.”  


“But – it wasn’t like that – “ Stiles stammered. “Please, I need this job.”  


“Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to whore around.” Jackson turned back to his computer. “Have your desk cleared out in the next ten minutes or I’ll call security to escort you out.”  


Stiles stared at him, blinking back tears. He had worked here for a year, and this was the loyalty he got? Anger began to rise in him, pushing away the sadness. He had done everything Jackson had ever asked of him, including cutting off contact with Derek, and still Jackson tossed him aside without a thought at the slightest provocation.  


“Fine,” he said loudly. Jackson continued staring at his computer, but Stiles wasn’t about to let that stop him. “Fine, whatever. You know what? You may be a good lawyer, but I have never met a more insecure, pretentious douchebag in my entire life. This right here is why Lydia Martin won’t give you a second chance and why your father doesn’t respect you. Just so you know. It’s because at the end of the day, you are so weak and desperate for validation that you will do whatever you think will make yourself look good, regardless of whether it’s the right thing or not. I would rather be standing in an unemployment line than spend another minute picking up after you.”  


Jackson’s face hardened. “Then it’s a good thing that’s where you’re headed, isn’t it?” he said, eyes flashing.  


Stiles gave him the middle finger and walked out. He paused at his desk long enough to pack up his picture frames and phone, tossing them in his messenger bag before leaving.

Stiles made it all the way back to his apartment on the fumes of his righteous anger before he began to panic. He paced his living room, frantic. What was he supposed to do now? He had a loan payment coming up, and his rent was due next week. He could always move back in with his dad, he supposed, but he felt like that was giving up. He was supposed to be an adult now! He was supposed to be able to handle things without getting fired and running home to his dad.  


The phone rang, flashing Scott’s name, and Stiles ran for it.  


“Scott, man, I am freaking out!” he said hysterically.  


“What’s wrong?” Scott said immediately. “What can I do?” A lifetime of friendship had made Scott prepared for all the times he had had to talk Stiles off a cliff, and Stiles felt momentarily reassured that Scott, at least, would always have his back. If only he wasn’t on the other side of the fucking country.  


“Derek kissed me, and Jackson found out and fired me,” he blurted out.  


“Dude!” Scott paused. “Why?”  


“I don’t know, I guess he likes me?” Stiles rubs at his face. “I'm not sure why either, but I wasn't about to question it.”  


“No, why did Jackson fire you?” Scott asked. “Of course Derek likes you. You’re awesome.”  


Bless Scott, honestly. Stiles could not have a better bro. “He said it was sexual harassment or something. Then he called me a whore and fired me.”  


“What?” Scott cried. “I’m going to kick his ass!”  


“Scott, you’re in North Carolina,” Stiles reminded him.  


“Whatever, I could do it,” Scott huffed. “I knocked him over once, do you remember?”  


“We were freshmen in high school and trying out for the lacrosse team,” Stiles said patiently. “This is a little different.” He paused. “And maybe this is a good thing. I mean, I hated that job.”  


“I know you did,” Scott said. “But what are you going to do? Do you have any idea?”  


Stiles hesitated. “I was sort of thinking of maybe applying to the police academy,” he said in a rush.  


“That’s a great idea!” Scott said enthusiastically. “You would make a great cop. You memorized all the radio codes when we were twelve.”  


Stiles grinned at the memory. Scott and he had made a game of it when they were little, trying to guess what the next call on his dad’s police radio would be, and sneaking off to the ones that sounded interesting. It took them trying to sneak onto a murder scene when they were fifteen for his dad to put his foot down.  


“You really think it’s a good idea?” he asked.  


“Dude, yes!” Scott said. “You won’t be stuck behind a desk all day, and you’ll get to help people. It’s perfect!”  


“I don’t know what I’ll do about the money, though,” Stiles said, wilting.  


“Don’t you have some savings?”  


“Yeah, but not that much.” Stiles sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he did the mental math. “It could cover my loan payments for a few months but not much more, and I don’t have enough to pay that, and rent, and for the academy.”  


“Stiles,” Scott said. “Why don’t you just ask your dad to help? He could lend you some money, or let you move back home. You know he would.”  


“I guess you’re right,” Stiles said. It was still hard not to feel like it would be a failure on his part, but he figured he might have to make his peace with that.  


“Duh,” Scott said. “Hey, do you think you’ll get a police dog?”  


Stiles and Scott talked that night until Stiles’ eyelids were drooping and he was nodding off on the phone. He hated that Scott’s school was so far away, but times like this almost made it seem like nothing had changed.  


The next day he let himself sleep in until noon before dragging himself out of bed. He took a quick shower and decided to head to the station to visit his dad, maybe take him out for lunch and tell him what happened.  


The Sheriff was predictably furious at Jackson, but he agreed that Stiles should go to the police academy. “I’ll help you fill out the application myself,” he said before he reached across the table and snaked a fry from Stiles’ plate. Stiles swatted uselessly at his hand but gave it up. He supposed he could let his dad indulge this once. “I don’t know why you never thought of it before.”  


Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I thought it might be weird for us, if you were my boss.”  


The Sheriff snorted. “Kid, there’s no way I would ever give you special treatment, and I would treat you a hell of a lot better than that Whittemore dick. I figure that already makes me a big improvement.”  


“Yeah, that’s true,” Stiles said, grinning. His dad did have a point. He had never cut Stiles any slack growing up. Any cries of nepotism would die pretty quickly when they saw how Stiles’ dad rode him.  


Stiles was letting himself back into his apartment, sipping at the milkshake he’d gotten to go from the diner when his phone buzzed with an unknown number.  


_I heard what happened. Are you okay?_  


Stiles frowned in confusion. Before he could reply, another text came in.  


_This is Derek. Maybe I should have led with that. I got your number from the head receptionist._  


Stiles made a mental note to send Heather a big bouquet of flowers.  


_I’m okay. It sucks but it was for the best._  


He paused, and added, _It was worth it._  


Stiles chewed nervously on his straw as he waited for a response. He started when the phone rang instead.  


“Hello?”  


“Stiles?” Derek’s voice washed over him, and he felt a powerful relief. It was crazy how soothing it was for him to just hear Derek’s voice, no matter what he was saying. “I was wondering if you were free for dinner tonight. If you wanted to talk about what happened?”  


Stiles smiled, bright and happy. “I would love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> For more sterek and other nonsense, you can find me on tumblr at abravelittletoaster!


End file.
